Page 5

CHAPTER FIVE

DECKER

“I’m happy for you two. I needed a little pick-me-up after the news about the restaurant.” I clap a hand down on my brother’s shoulder as his wife, Nora, rests her palms over her still-flat belly. “You guys will be great parents.”

Nora reaches out and places a hand over mine. “I’m so sorry. We know how excited you were about Gable’s. It’s a shame it happened, and to such a beautiful, historical place.” She shakes her head, sincere sadness overtaking her previous joy.

As much as I’d like to wallow about it and the fact that I just finished fantasizing about hiring someone to restore its vintage interior, redecorating a historical landmark and bringing it back to its—lucrative—former glory wasn’t my sole goal.

It’s what an investment like that could do for the other aspirations I have, the ones that go beyond the 50-yard line and way past the end zone.

It wasn’t just my retirement plan that burned up with Gable’s; it was the security it was meant to provide for a slew of castoff dogs, too.

Ones who need more than just a little love and a warm bed, but medication, special food, the works.

Gable’s was supposed to fund that dream for the long haul.

I suppose my hesitation did me a favor. I never pulled the trigger on the investment, and given its current state, I should be more grateful than anything. My indecisiveness saved my butt and my wallet for once.

Nora’s smile trembles as she pushes her braids out of her deep brown eyes. Oh no. I will not have the pregnant lady crying on my account. I pat her hand. “The good thing is, I never had a chance to sign the papers.”

“But you said that was your retirement plan. What about the shelter?”

“The shelter will still happen. There will be more opportunities.” My face strains into a smile as I attempt to convince both Nora and myself that my dreams haven’t gone up in smoke.

It works because she smiles and returns to her spot at the counter next to my mom, where they graze on cheese and crackers.

I raise my beer to them both. “Restaurants are a dime a dozen, but it’s not every day my big bro becomes a dad.”

Ian grins at me, scratching beneath his full, dark beard. “We were all sure you’d beat me to it.”

“Just not as potent as you, I guess.” I laugh and sip my drink, grateful to be in the offseason and with my family all in one place.

During football season, I hardly see Ian.

At least not since he was traded from the Las Vegas Rollers to the Kentucky Miners five years ago.

Las Vegas was fun to visit, and a short flight.

Kentucky is quite the trek from California and a lot colder.

I can understand why he keeps a second home a few blocks down from Mom.

He chugs his can, tossing it into the ill-placed trash bin nestled beside the island. It hits the edge of the beige laminate counter and bounces to the floor.

“No wonder you guys couldn’t clinch that win in the playoffs,” I tease.

“Decker!” Nora shoots me a disapproving look. “That game’s still off limits. It’s too fresh.”

“It’s been like six months,” I say.

“Exactly.” She frowns.

I cock my head at her, wondering if Ian is as sensitive about it as she is, but he ignores my insult, gesturing toward his missed target. “Mom, you know they have ways to hide those now.”

Our mom combs her fingers through her faded hair, shaking her head. “Don’t even start on the trashcan thing. This is where you two grew up. You weren’t complaining then.”

“At least let us pay to update it if you won’t let us get you a new place,” I say.

This woman is more stubborn than me, and that’s saying something.

Deep down, I know why she’s averse to change.

It’s the same reason I’d keep these threadbare rugs, the knicks in the walls, and the closets cluttered with years of memories.

Dad lived here. This was his place as much as it was ours.

If we plaster and paint everything, what will we have left of him?

She sighs. “When Ian wins the Super Bowl, then we’ll talk, but? — ”

“Yeah, gotta catch up to your lil’ bro,” I laugh.

Nora clucks her tongue.

Our mom rolls her eyes. “But for now,” she says, tugging Nora under her arm, “Ian, you focus on providing for your growing family. And Decker?—”

“Yes?” I glance up from my phone screen.

“You just focus on making that animal shelter a reality. Don’t worry about my kitchen.”

I drop my gaze. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

She turns to face me. “A sign for what? Don’t you give up now. Gable’s is a setback in your string of plans. Nothing more.”

I raise my brows, dousing the streak of panic that’s cropped up with the rest of my drink.

Hearing her talk about the shelter out loud makes me feel so…

out of touch. Still, I can’t help but think if there were someone advocating for them, maybe more dogs would find a comfortable place to live out their last few golden years.

It keeps me spurring on, no matter how ridiculous of a dream it seems. A professional football career pays well, but with the cost of living and leasing and medical supplies rising, I need a sure thing.

I need a backup plan. Growing up with my family's financial restraints makes you think ahead about things like that. If I always have some stream of income, I’ll always be able to use it how I want, and right now, paying to keep my family and well-deserving animals comfortable is how I want to do that.

“Hey.” Her tone is one I’ve heard my entire life. The stern one that forces me to listen even when I want to do anything else. “I’m older. Wiser, some may say. This is only a little hiccup. Something better will come along. Trust me.”

She makes it sound so simple, like it’s destined to happen.

Gable’s Restaurant and Lounge isn’t the first time I’ve gotten ahead of myself.

I should’ve learned my lesson after that last brand deal fell through.

The restaurant was supposed to be my Hail Mary to make up for that loss.

Regardless, it always hurts to say goodbye to a good thing, especially before it comes to fruition.

Not only does it suck Gable’s was damaged last night, but another historical landmark as well, the one on the other side of the wall. Allister King’s Music Hall.

Mom has too much confidence in me and my ability to produce.

I know she doesn’t know any better because we’ve never really talked money together.

It’s not something I feel comfortable with.

I know what kind of budget we grew up on, the kind of Christmases we had.

My parents always made sure my brother and I had enough while they constantly put themselves second.

Dad missed out on so many games and memories because the only way to cover our expenses was for him to work multiple jobs.

As selfish as it sounds, it’s something that took me years to understand and finally forgive him for. It’s a guilt I still carry with me.

The minute I signed my pro contract, I promised myself they’d never go without again. And now that it’s just Mom, there’s no way I’m not providing for her. She’s always cared for me, believed in me, no matter how farfetched the aspiration. It’s the least I can do.

Mom crosses to the pantry, then the fridge, and then to the crooked cabinet door that hides the mixing bowls.

As soon as she starts pouring ingredients, measuring with her heart, I know what she’s making.

Her famous chocolate chip cookies. Nora picks at the chocolate chunks as the two get lost in baby conversation.

My mom always wanted a daughter, and even though it’s through marriage, Nora is her first. I’ve only ever brought one girl home, all the way back in high school.

Even then, I’ve never seen her take to someone like she has to Ian’s wife.

Ian and Nora have something I could only ever dream of.

My family gives me a hard time about hopping from girl to girl, but the thing is, I don’t enjoy it.

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t do it for sport.

What these two have is something to be envious of.

It goes so much deeper than the surface level stuff everyone seems to get caught up in.

When Ian falls short, Nora picks up the slack and vice versa.

It’s a give and take, a team effort. They operate as one unit.

It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever find, and after the most recent headlines regarding my latest romantic involvement, any sane girl would run in the opposite direction.

Shaking my head, I try to push my failures and recent tragedies from memory.

I finish my bottle and watch as my mom rests her cheek atop Nora’s shoulder, which she can barely reach.

How that petite woman birthed two giants is beyond my understanding.

Our dad was almost six feet tall, but I’m still not certain how that and a couple inches over five feet math up to creating two professional athletes towering six foot four and beyond.

Mom beams up at Nora as she starts mixing in the chocolate chips. She looks so proud. Just as proud as when I helped secure the Kings’ Super Bowl win at the beginning of the year.

“Don’t even think they’re gonna name that baby Darlene, cause they’re not,” I tease.

“What’s wrong with my name?” Mom huffs as she stirs her little heart out.

“We haven’t even discussed names yet, Decker. Don’t shoot her down already,” Nora says.

My phone pings again. Jason Lancaster flashes across my screen.

What does my manager want? The first weekend in months, I step away from work, and he can’t seem to remember.

I sigh, unable to hold back from scanning my texts.

The words new collab opportunity leap from my screen.

Has he been taken hostage by some multi-level marketing schemer or what?

“Need another?” Ian points to my drink.

I shake my head as he grabs a beer from the fridge and a bottle of water for his wife.

“If the baby’s a girl, you never know,” Nora says, opening the bottle. “Darlene would be unique, or we could always find another way to work your name in.”

“Or maybe somethin’ with James in it, after dad.” Ian throws out the suggestion casually like he’s suggesting we order pizza for dinner, like it’s not the most gut-wrenching reminder that this baby will never meet her grandfather.

My mother’s eyes well with tears as she wraps her daughter-in-law in a tight hug. She’s always been a proud parent to my brother and me, but the admiration she has for this couple right now is something I’ve never witnessed in my thirty years.

Despite my closet full of football trophies, multiple championship rings, and a nod for one of Vista City’s “Sexiest Bachelors” from a local magazine, none of them can top the arrival of her first grandbaby.

My chest feels hollow as I consider that.

I can work myself to the bone, winning awards and championships and titles, but at the end of the day, what do I have if there’s no one to share them with?

He’s not much older than me, but I feel like he’s decades ahead.

While I’m out with whatever girl catches my eye that month, Ian has Nora.

He has consistency. Someone to go home to that loves him for more than his accomplishments.

Football wins and business aspirations pale in comparison to what my brother has—a family.

He’s steady, dependable, and despite his high profile career, he’s predictable.

All of the things that always seem just out of reach for me.

As much as I wish I were successful in the same areas, I won’t begrudge my brother true happiness.

I may have more championship rings, but Ian is the one who always seems to win. And that’s fine.